


Forget the Name

by Brillador



Series: Our Fine Town (Next Generation) [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Minor Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brillador/pseuds/Brillador
Summary: Rumple and Belle's daughter meets a girl named Scarlet and makes her first real friend. But, this being Storybrooke, some awkward truths need to be addressed.





	

No one at school questioned it, not even after all the times Ms. Blanchard or any of the other teachers called Scarlet by her real name during attendance. Most kids weren’t paying attention during homeroom unless their own name was rattled off and they needed to prove they were present (and awake). So they had reason to ask for her name, and her answer would be the same: “Call me Scarlet.”

 If you asked around, many of her classmates would settle on her hair being the reason her name fit. Heck, the legendary Red Riding Hood got her name from a piece of clothing! Naming someone for their hair color (which was actually bright copper) sounded acceptable. And the girl herself advocated it, so why not?

Téa Gold didn’t know Scarlet by any name when they first met in the lunchroom. Scarlet was sitting alone, contemplatively eating her way through a fruit bowl and a plate of lasagna. Téa was letting her lunch bag swing by her side as she went finding a comfortable place to eat. When she spied the redheaded girl, her long legs self-consciously crossed but undeniably reaching the floor, she debated whether it would be okay to sit with a third-grader. It was a bit bold, a bit overreaching for someone who hadn’t made a real friend in the last two years since starting at Storybrooke Elementary. Her chances stood better with someone who seemed lacking in friends, too, but the clincher had been the sight of the red sauce speckled with meat oozing between layers of pasta and cheese. Her stomach growled in envy. Not that she was going to steal, of course.

“Aw man!” Téa announced as she passed the girl. “I didn’t know they had that for hot lunch!”

The older girl needed a few seconds to realize that Téa was talking to her, and specifically talking about her lunch. “Oh!” she said after swallowing. “No, I brought this from home.”

“Oh. Lucky!” Téa scooted closer, still tentative in action if not in words. “I just have a regular old sandwich. And some brownies. Mom’s not so good with cooking, but she’s got baking down pretty good. Um, is this seat taken?”

Scarlet raised her eyebrows. “Does it look taken?”

Téa’s voice wobbled as she giggled. “Right. Well, maybe if you had ghost friends, or something.” She chuckled again and made a point not to dwell on her awkwardness.

“Afraid not.” Scarlet’s gaze darted back to her food, a sign that even if the redhead extended an invitation, it would be a reluctant one. Téa started to back away, only to be stopped by the girl’s pale, shining eyes and embarrassed yet hopeful half-smile. “You can sit if you want.”

She didn’t want the girl to feel uncomfortable having a lunch companion, but the cafeteria was filling up fast with kids, and Téa preferred getting stuck with a stranger she had some interest in talking to. She slipped onto the bench, leaving a foot of space between the two students.

“I think this is my first time sitting with a third-grader,” Téa commented.

Scarlet bunched her eyebrows together. “How do you know I’m third grade?”

“I’m in second, and you guys always get out to lunch a period before us. And you look more . . . grown-up.”

“I do?” A surprised laugh got caught in Scarlet’s throat just as she took another forkful of lasagna. She had to cough.

Once the older girl cleared her throat, Téa continued, “Sure you do! You’re nine, aren’t you? Most of my class is still seven. You’re almost double digits!”

Scarlet shrugged.

“Trust me, it’s cool.” Téa’s lunchmate wasn’t giving her much conversation fodder to run with, but their limited rapport felt nonetheless comfortable. Maybe Téa intuitively understood the reason behind the hunched shoulders, the downcast gaze at the food instead of up at people. It was easier to hide away rather than risk people knowing more about you than you want. Or doing something that will make them not like you.

Téa unzipped her lunch bag. It was her second-favorite, decorated with Spider-Man web-slinging against a city backdrop. She took out her bag of homemade brownies. She presented a single roughly cut piece to the older girl. “Here, try this.”

“Uh . . .” After a couple false starts, Scarlet finally claimed the brownie and set it next to the half-empty fruit bowl. “Thanks.” Then her eyes rounded. “You have a Spider-Man lunch bag!”

“Yeah,” Téa said with a small rush of pride.

“I’ve been asking my mom to get a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles one, but she says it’s tacky. I think she thinks they’re too weird.”

“She kidding? They’re awesome! They’re from the same place as Spidey—New York City! I used to live there.”

“Really?” Scarlet lit up like a rainbow in a sunny spring shower. “What’s it like?”

Téa admitted she remembered only tidbits. She and her family moved to Storybrooke in time for her to start kindergarten. But she could recall the pretzels from street stands, the honking traffic, the gargantuan buildings that she pretended were frozen giants. It felt like things were always happening in the city, even if it was just people going from one place to another or hanging around the park. She vaguely remembered a park, or maybe a zoo. That last detail set Scarlet on a ramble about how she always wanted to see a city zoo, like what the pictures on the websites show. Storybrooke was too small to have its own zoo; the best alternative was the animal shelter, which she honestly liked visiting. That launched the girls into a conversation about what kind of pets they’d like to have. If only the bell for next period hadn’t rung, forcing the redhead to clean up the remnants of her lunch. She hadn’t finished her lasagna. Without a hint of a question from Téa, she pushed the plate over with a smile.

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name,” Téa said as the girl started walking away.

“Scarlet!” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m Téa! See ya!”

When Téa got home and told Mom and Pop about her new friend, you’d swear she’d told them she’d made valedictorian. Her mom was especially happy. They didn’t recognize the name Scarlet, but that hardly mattered. Téa caught the smallest wince on her father’s face, but it came and went so quickly it didn’t strike her as important.

Téa would be the first to admit she didn’t pay attention to gossip or general school knowledge, but as far as she was aware, everyone knew her new friend as Scarlet. It later surprised her how quickly the name had caught on considering that Scarlet started going to school the same year Téa entered second grade. She’d been homeschooled before then. As she got to know the older girl, she slowly understood how it came about.

The truth didn’t dawn until the following spring, just as the last month before summer break was closing out. Téa had started asking Scarlet about her address, her phone number, where and when would be the best way to keep seeing each other during the vacation. Scarlet had dragged her heels giving this info, which Téa respected as a desire for privacy, but it felt strange. She gave her own details in hopes that the favor was returned; Scarlet still hesitated.

“Scarlet, school’s almost out,” Téa pleaded as they waited for the bus to pick them up from the school parking lot. “I don’t want to spend the whole boring summer without you.”

“I know.” Scarlet scraped the sole of her shoe on the asphalt. Her reticence suddenly turned to veiled yet startling intensity when she looked up at Téa. “I just don’t want you to hate me.”

“What? Come on, how can I hate you?”

“Because I haven’t been honest sooner about who I am.”

A chill ran through Téa’s chest. Not of fear—not fear of Scarlet. It was more like she was the one with a secret that was under threat of being revealed. Maybe Scarlet was in a similar position.

“Well, I haven’t told you everything about me, either,” she offered.

Scarlet inhaled quickly. “So, if I ask you about your family, you’ll tell me the truth?”

“Yeah, sure I will.”

“Okay. Is your dad Rumplestiltskin?”

It would be wrong to call the heat washing over her face shame. She wasn’t ashamed of her Pop. She loved him to pieces. But she wasn’t blind to the way people sometimes looked at him when he, she and Mom walked to the shop or the library, or even when riding in the Cadillac. In those moments, flooded with confusion and irrational embarrassment, she clung to her mother’s words: _Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow._

“Yeah, he is. And my mom is Belle.”

“Right,” Scarlet said softly, as though she needed to steep in this revelation for a moment. After a moment she said, “He’s the Dark One, right?”

Téa had heard that title, but not often. Only a couple times, usually when someone was really annoyed at her Pop. “I guess so,” she said with a shrug.

“Then you know that sometimes people will think things about you because of who your parents are,” Scarlet said.

That was not the reply Téa was expecting. Better than she’d hoped for, in fact. “Yeah. It’s stupid. But Mom says to ignore them. But she really wants me to have friends, and it’s hard because of who Pop is. I don’t know why.”

Scarlet nodded, silent. Téa cherished that silence. It was better that Scarlet wasn’t trying to comfort her or explain anything away. It was what it was. But now her curiosity was whetted—how did Scarlet understand all this?

“So, who’re your parents?” Téa finally asked.

Scarlet swallowed. She looked at her shoes. “My mom is the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Téa’s eyebrows popped up. Her mind flashed a picture of a green-faced woman, eyes hidden under a black hat, and a woman in white whispering in her ear. She’d seen the picture on several posters in New York. She asked her parents to help her read the word underneath. The word had been big, white, stylish. It had beckoned her to learn the name of this enigmatic image. Her mother had pursed her lips. Her father had frowned. Not at Téa, though. Eventually one of them—she didn’t remember who—read the title. _Wicked._

“Whoa,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Scarlet said. “There’s something else.”

Really? There was more? Téa clutched her backpack tight and, hardly breathing, watched her friend with wide eyes.

“My aunt—my mom’s sister—is the Evil Queen. You know, Snow White’s Evil Queen.”

“Oh my God,” Téa whispered reverently. This was the scariest and coolest thing she’d ever heard.

Scarlet didn’t agree. She sighed. “Pretty awful, right?”

Téa deliberated for a few seconds, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know if it’s awful. But I would say it’s . . . wicked.”

Scarlet reeled a glare on her. “I’m going to smack you.”

Téa bit her lower lip to hold in the laughter. So worth it.

“And there’s one more thing.”

“What? Scarlet!”

The older girl shushed her, then pulled her closer. “This is serious. Just listen, okay?”

Téa sighed and nodded.

“My name isn’t Scarlet. It’s Robin.”

Now that reveal rocked Téa. It was far more baffling than the identities of her friend’s relatives. “What? But—how do you get Scarlet from Robin?”

“I don’t. It’s my middle name. My dad suggested it before . . . before he died. But my mom wanted to name me after my dad instead. So my birth name is Robin. Robin Scarlet Mills.”

“Oh.” Her utterance barely registered even in her own ears.

If she’d had any clue to what say, it would’ve been dismissed or forgotten at the sight of the bus. The girls wordlessly got in line, mounted the stairs and hunted for an open seat they could share. They found one closer to the back, which the older kids usually dominated. Scarlet claimed the window, as usual. An odd thought came to Téa: maybe Scarlet, or Robin, liked sitting by the window not just so her mind could wander while the outside scenery rolled by (like Téa did), but also because she felt safer from the world with the younger girl on the aisle seat. For some reason, Téa liked that idea. Kind of weird that she, almost a year and a half younger than Scarlet, was acting as her guard. But she liked it, and for that she never complained about giving up the window.

The bus needed barely an hour to circle Storyrbooke. Téa’s stop was before Scarlet’s. The younger girl dwelled on the uncomfortable possibility that they would be parting ways like this, unsure of their summer plans or any plans for their friendship. The burden of responsibility doubly weighed her down. Two stops before hers, she found the words and worked up the nerve to speak.

She leaned toward Scarlet. “Can we still meet up during the summer?”

Scarlet, as though startled from a nap, flinched at Téa. Her face was tight around the forehead and mouth, as though she still expected an unkind word from her friend. Téa wondered if her faced looked the same.

While not all the tension faded, Scarlet relaxed enough to nod and say, “That’d be great. Hang on, I’ll give you my phone number.”

It was the house number, not her mom’s or aunt’s cellphones. Both girls had to wait until middle school to get phones of their own. Téa watched Scarlet scribble down digits on a sheet of notebook paper she tore out of her binder. She liked the weight of the paper all folded up in her pocket when she gathered her bag and left their seat. She waved to Scarlet, who waved back, finally smiling. She felt for the pocket several times on her way up the walkway to the pink mansion she called home just to make sure the paper didn’t fall out anywhere on the way. When she stepped inside the house, and before she announced to anyone present that she’d made it back from school in one piece, she pulled out and unfolded the crisp white sheet.

She couldn’t miss what her friend had added under the phone number: _Scarlet_ , with a heart. Téa’s smile jumped off and air rushed in when a rosy glow filled up the pen-drawn heart. The light cooled but left a blush in the shape’s empty core. Once the girl’s breath steadied, she snuck the paper back into her pocket and jaunted upstairs. Her smile grew again.

**Author's Note:**

> Before we learned Baby Hood's name in the show, I had set on calling her Scarlet. I'm not terribly surprised, nor pleased, at the name she ultimately got. So here's me having my cake and eating it, too. And yes, in this verse, Robin gets to have a conversation with Regina about his wishes for naming his daughter.


End file.
